A Tale of Kieran                                                Vegepythicus, editor                                                                                                                                            
    )	 8    E      7      u    #  '  ,  /  3  8  J<  c?  uC      Tales of Kieran        Librarian's Note ...   The recorded tales of Kieran the Bard fall into three categories: the Woodland Cycle, Castles and Kings, and an unnamed cycle of lusty tales (recently destroyed by mysterious accident). Some are in the bard's own hand, while others, mere shadows of the originals, remain only as bedtime tales for children. The structure exemplifies the helical form favoured by listeners about the hearth on a long winter's eve. As to whether they describe real events, be allegory, or be mere entertaining fancy, the reader must decide.    ***      I.   Kieran was on the road from Wren to Fairtree, when he grew weary from the midday sun. His boots were tight and he thought to remove them for a bit in the shade of a nearby oak (oaks being a favourite of bards). This particular oak was venerable and gnarled, with sturdy branches that dipped and swooped, nearly touching the ground in spots. From its shade Kieran watched the forest creatures playing in the warm sun. But for the rustling of leaves, high above, the only sounds were of butterfly wings and birdsong.   "What a peaceful day," Kieran thought as he watched a butterfly drift by, "What a beautiful day! In truth, since bards first told tales, has there ever been a day more peaceful and beautiful than this?"   He drank from his waterskin and, taking his lute from its sack, cleared his throat and began to sing:   "Oh, the maidens of Wren are passing fair ...  ...with breasts like melons, and flaxen hair ..."   He had just taken a deep breath to bellow the lusty chorus when a small, feminine voice said, "Kind sir ..."   He leaped to his stockinged feet, his face flaming red. "Who's there?" he cried.   The small voice repeated, "Please, sir, if you will be so kind ..."   Kieran looked about but saw no person or creature addressing him.   "Pray thee," he cried. "Show thyself or have cause to fear my dagger." (He tried desperately to remember where he had last seen it.) "Whether thee be friend or foe, pray thee show thyself now."   The small voice replied from above him, "Kind sir, thou hast no cause to fear me, and I am in need of help. Can thou find it in thy heart to aid me?"   He looked up and saw naught but a small robin's nest, three branches above him. Climbing swiftly, he found a robin with three tiny robinlings, their mouths open wide.   "Good mother robin," he asked, "Can it be thee who addresses me thus?"   "Kind sir," she replied, "I have hurt my wing and it will be at least a day before I might fly. If my children do not eat soon, they will die. Would you be so kind as to bring a fat, juicy meal? Would you find a caterpillar or earthworm or grub for my children?"   Now, Kieran was kind of heart and it was not within him to refuse a plea such as this, so off he went into the forest. Searching under some mulberry leaves, he soon found a small green caterpillar. It seemed a perfect meal for young robins.   Plucking it from the leaf upon which it fed, he prepared to hurry back to the oak when he heard a tiny voice. He opened his hand and the caterpillar looked up at him with her big brown eyes wide with fear. "Kind sir," she said, "wouldst thou kill me so thoughtlessly?"   Kieran scratched his head in puzzlement and the caterpillar continued: "When thou cooled thy feet beneath the oak, didst thou not find joy in my parents' beauty as they danced before thee in the sun? I, too, am soon to change. Wouldst thou deny thy successors the joy of my dancing? And if I do not live to have children, how will thine own children find such joy? Please, sir, would not an earthworm serve the needs of the robinlings just as well?   Kieran looked into the eyes of the caterpillar and knew that he could not feed her to the robins. Carefully, he placed her beneath her mulberry bush and continued his search.   Near a rushing brook, Kieran found a flat stone that, when moved, revealed a juicy earthworm enjoying the cool moist earth. "Aha." he thought. "As nice as the caterpillar may have been, this truly seems a more fitting meal for young robins."   He had no sooner plucked the earthworm from it's cool abode (where it had been frantically trying to burrow away from him), when he heard a voice so faint he might have imagined it:   "Kind sir," he thought he heard, and Kieran looked in his hand. The worm continued: "I am but a lowly creature, it's true, but might I plead such case that I have?"   Kieran rolled his eyes skyward as the worm sat up and seized its chance. "I am not a lowborn worm like others you might find. No, I am a prince among earthworms. I come from an ancient lineage. My ancestors burrowed the earth when fires belched from black pits throughout these lands. I command millions like myself. Were it not for my loyal followers, you, good sir, would be up to your  neck in leaves, tree trunks and mouldy carcasses. I'll make a bargain with you. If you release me and choose, instead, a pathetic grub for the robinlings, I will dispatch an entire clan of earthworms to keep your foreyard clean and sweet-smelling for as long as ye shall live." The earthworm looked hopefully at Kieran (while calculating the distance to the ground). "Good sir, what say ye?"   Kieran was beginning to lose his patience, but, seeing the value of the earthworm's offer, decided that a grub would, indeed, make a tasty morsel for the young robins. He returned the earthworm to its moist haven and carefully replaced the flat stone above it. And, true to his desire, a short while later, in a forest glade, beneath a wide slab of discarded bark, Kieran chanced upon that which he sought: a fat white grub that would grow the robinlings into beautiful songsters. He plucked it from its hiding place and set forth. It was a beautiful day, indeed.      II.   Nearby, in stately Trowbridge, King Caladan did live with his lovely daughter, Einlea. The princess was the apple of the old man's eye and the crown jewel of his small kingdom. He looked upon her with the blind pride of a doting father, and she, for her part, did naught but bask and flourish in his bounty.   Trowbridge was quiet now, the chief sounds being the clatter of cart wheels and the cries of street vendors, but it was not always so. Three years earlier there had been trouble with Carthan to the west. It was not much, a border dispute, but the king persuaded a wizard named Loziard to come to Trowbridge in his employ, to aid him in the contest. Loziard was unknown by all in Trowbridge and kept to himself within the palace, coming and going as he pleased. When Trowbridge prevailed, with almost no loss of life, there was joyous celebration for days and weeks thereafter. Time passed, yet Loziard remained. The King, not wanting to seem ungrateful, said nothing, but became increasingly discomforted with the wizard's presence and wished for his departure.   On Einlea's twentieth birthday, King Caladan called for a celebration and holiday through all his land. Unknown to his subjects, he intended to proclaim his retirement and the transference of his crown to his beautiful daughter. Out of politeness, and nothing more, he invited the wizard Loziard to aid him in devising a proper speech.   Loziard was furious. He paced his chamber, his black brows knitted with intensity that would have soured any cow's milk. "Why," he cried aloud, "am I treated so unjustly by the old buffoon? Were it not for my skills, the border contest, mayhaps even the kingdom itself, might have been lost. I deserve more. I deserve the crown. To give it to that primping simpering daughter of his, who thinks naught of more than her own whim, is a slap more stinging than that of gauntlet. I will have justice. I will demonstrate, amply, for all to see, wherein lies true power."   Thereupon, Loziard made his preparations.   Princess Einlea's birthday came on a summer morning. Everyone within the city, and from the farms without, gathered to the palace for the festival. Banners waved from every rooftop. Fiddlers fiddled and dancers danced. Bakers baked wonderful sweets for the occasion. It was a day long to be remembered.   At noon, precisely, King Caladan and Princess Einlea emerged onto the main balcony to the cheers of the kingdom. "Good citizens of Trowbridge," called the King, "We are but a tiny kingdom, but we prosper, do we not?"   Loud hails (mostly) erupted from the crowd below. Encouraged, Caladan continued, "But now I am an old man. The day has arrived when younger blood can better attend to the needs and events of the kingdom. My subjects ... My loyal subjects and friends ... It is with honour  ...and pride  ...and the greatest of expectations  ...that I transfer my kingdom and my crown to my loving daughter. To one and all, I give you" (a long pause here) "Einlea."   As cheers filled the air, Caladan made a grand, sweeping gesture with his arm, intending to make the presentation as spectacular as the pride that filled him. His robe went "swoooosh" and his hand pointed to ... nobody. What was this? Where had she gone? Where Einlea had been, moments earlier, there now was naught but vacant air.   "Er ...Einlea ...?" he called, uncertainly. But there was no response. Silence fell over park and courtyard. People glanced at each other nervously.   Old Loziard clapped his hands in glee. He danced. He hugged himself with uncontained laughter. "How wonderful ..." he cried. "What a breathtakingly stunning and talented a wizard I am.." For what he had done, of course, was to rid himself of Einlea for once and for all. With one stroke, crafty and evil, he had removed the vain creature from the palace. Nought else remained between him and that which he desired.   Now, magic is a tricky thing. Like all forces in the world, it must be kept in balance. As surely as day balances night and summer balances winter, so too must positive magic balance negative. For every hurtful or destructive spell, there must be an act of equal goodness or charity lest trouble overflow into the world. For every black wizard, there must be a white. For every spell of combat destruction, there must be healing. Know ye this  ...if all who practice magic cast naught but healing or protective spells, dark, horrible forces would build up until chaos and ruin would burst forth and rain our doom down upon us. Thus may spells of healing be broken by harm, and the worst of spells be broken by charity.   Knowing this, Loziard planned well his act of vengeance. To permanently rid himself of Einlea (short of killing her outright) he must devise a spell so cunning that no act of kindness would ever break it. He was pulling lice out of his long beard, late one evening, when he burst into laughter. He would make her into something  ...disgusting.   "I will make her into a frog." he laughed, then frowned. No ... that had been done. People might expect it and go around, like mindless idiots, seeking frogs, hoping to earn a kings ransom.   And then, a brilliant plan occurred to him.   "I will make her into a bug, an insect, a WORM ..." He almost choked on his wine. "Oh. How perfect.. I will make her into something so truly loathsome that she will spend the rest of her little bug life in terror of being squashed by the first person who sees her." He squealed and his rings jangled and his fat jiggled and he snorted wine out his nose in laughter. "Oh, how absolutely delicious ..."   And that's exactly what he did. While King Caladan and his subjects scratched their heads in puzzlement, nobody saw a small fat white tree grub plop to the cobblestones beneath the main balcony and immediately curl up, glistening and quivering.      III.   Einlea was terrified. What had happened? Well, she had seen enough of Loziard's magic to know what had happened. But why? Why would he do this to her? She didn't have long to ponder the question. A huge black hound, hundreds of times her size, ran to the cobblestone where she lay, and almost gobbled her with one slurp of his tongue. From somewhere, she found the wherewithal to roll out of his way and into the crevice between the stones. His HUGE slurpy tongue followed her, drooling and panting great hurricanes of hot awful breath down at her. But just as the tongue was about to lick her into the waiting stomach, the hound's owner yanked his massive chain and pulled the beast toward home.   It is true that Einlea, in her life as a human, was self indulgent and not inclined to effort or resource, but that was merely because she had no need of either. In the following days, she had cause to discover plenty of both within her. After the incident with the hound, she knew she must go far away from people and dogs. And she knew what kinds of creatures dined on grubs, too. She slept out of sight under leaves, in places where grubs would not likely be sought.   Even so, Einlea's days were filled with terror and adventure. There were circling hawks by day and owls by night. A bear, tearing at a rotting tree trunk, gobbled grubs, indistinguishable from Einlea, by the hundreds, as she watched in horror from behind a nearby rock. The smallest stream was now an enormous, gushing torrent, to be crossed in a nutshell under the greatest of peril. Einlea passed these tests, along with many others, and she passed them well.   It was on her tenth such day that a clumsy boot kicked aside the piece of bark under which she had sought shelter from the sun. Blinded by the sudden light, she heard an exclamation from high above. Then, before she could react, two fingers dropped from the sky and plucked her up and deposited her firmly inside a huge fist.   Ten days ago, Einlea would have been paralysed with terror. But that was ten days ago.  Her mind raced. "Who is this clumsy idiot, anyway??" she thought,  "and what on earth does he want with a tree grub? At least he didn't squash me on the spot. That's encouraging, isn't it? So he must be here to rescue me.."   She wriggled and squirmed in his fist until she could see his face, high above her, between two of his fingers. "Ugh. A beard. If I'm going to be rescued, why can't it be by a fine young prince?" But it then occurred to her that she was speaking from old habit. "I wonder how many of those foppish boys could have survived these past ten days?" She laughed, thinking of them. "Not many, I bet. Those who wouldn't have curled up and died immediately would, by now, be whimpering and crying for their mothers." She looked at Kieran again. "Well ... maybe he would look better if I wasn't looking straight up his nostrils. Ouch.. Why isn't he more careful with me??"   And then it occurred to Einlea that, if this oaf were truly rescuing her, he probably would have said something to her.   "Uh-oh." Einlea's heart raced and she started wriggling furiously , imagining the worst of all possible deaths. "He must be going fishing."   Einlea couldn't do much in her current state, but she could spit. And spit she did. In quantities unimaginable for so small a grub. She spit and spit and spit until her tiny grub mouth was too dry to spit another drop. She felt Kieran's hand squirming and thought, "It's working.."      IV.   Kieran was fair disgusted. Twas bad enough that he had to touch the slimy thing, but now it was oozing something and becoming truly revolting. Finally, just before he reached the robin's oak, he could take it no longer. He stopped and examined the creature in his hand. White and plump and glistening, it was, in truth, a repellent creature. Yet the poor thing was obviously terrified. It gazed up at him with what he imagined to be minuscule grub eyes, pleading. Kieran thought of the caterpillar and the earthworm, and his heart gave in. Heaving a great resigned sigh, he found a nice clean root and placed the grub upon it.   And thus was Loziard's spell broken.   None could have been more astonished than Einlea when she unexpectedly grew to her former size, except, perhaps for Kieran, who nearly died of fright. He was no more than catching his breath when Einlea regained her wits. Raising her index finger, warning  Kieran not to say even ONE word, Einlea snatched Kieran's coat to cover herself. Then, with fire in her eyes, and as much dignity as she could muster, she was off to Trowbridge, leaving Kieran to stare, open- mouthed, at her departing figure.   Einlea knew she could not simply enter the city and confront Loziard. The moment he saw her, he would but cast another enchantment upon her. So, disguising herself as a shepherd, she found an abandoned house on the moors and began to make her plans. What happened next is a tale worth hearing. But it is a tale for another evening. Indeed, it is a tale to be told over many an evening, and many a good pot of ale.     And what of the baby robins? Having no alternative, Kieran climbed the tree and took from his pack his last piece of fatty mutton. Tearing it into small shreds, he gave it to the grateful mother robin, who fed it to her family.   Upon returning to the ground, Kieran looked first toward Fairtree, his former destination, then, grinning, set off after the most surprising young lady, for whom he now had many questions. "Who knows ..." he called back to the robins, "It may be fate. And besides, I need my coat."   He was heard, late that evening, far down the road, singing:   "Oh, the maidens of Trowbridge are passing fair ...   ...with breasts like melons, and flaxen hair ..."     